chapter twenty-two
For the last time ever, Jo's blood stained fingers work against the cold, clammy, mangled skin of her brother as they sit cross-legged on the floor, working against the rising of the sun, full moon fading. James lets out grunts and hisses as Jo weaves suture in and out of the damp skin on his shoulder blade-after minutes of pleading and bargaining James relented, letting his sister practice muggle healing practices on him. He inhales sharply as the needle catches, and Jo has to tug harshly to pull it through. "Bloody hell, Josie. Can't you at least cast a numbing spell?"
Jo's biting down on her lip, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as she works quickly to stitch up his deepest wound of the night. "Then you won't be able to tell if my technique's improving," she mumbles as the needle pokes through his skin again.
"Ow, fuck, Josie!" James exclaims as he jerks away from her, and the needle and suture fall from her hands and dangle loosely from his wound, bumping against the bare skin of his back. "I can tell you that it's not. It's your first time just please, please, cast a numbing spell."
"Alright, fine," Jo concedes with a roll of her eyes, pulling her wand out of her back pocket. Gently, she taps it on her brother's back, mumbling a spell under her breath, watching as the numbed area loses a bit of color. At once, James slumps in relief, muscles easing and a rush of air coming out from his lungs. Jo resumes with the needle, stitching him up with steady fingers. "Another rough moon?" Jo questions, eying over the bruises and more shallow scratches that litter his skin.
James shrugs. "Wasn't so bad. Think he just gets a bit excited sometimes, likes to be a bit rougher," he explains, and though his back is turned to his sister she can almost hear the way his expression shifts as he speaks his next words. "It's his last time out there free, can't blame him for losing it a bit."
Remus has, sparingly, told Jo the details of what his full moons will look like after his time at Hogwarts. Heavy, enchanted chains, dusty basements or attics, distrustful Aurors. Peter has filled her in on the rest-how he will howl and gnaw at his own limbs and break his own bones. How he will fight against his constraints until his human form is beaten, bloodied, broken. It makes Jo sick, indignant, to imagine Remus Lupin reduced to such a fate. "I don't see why he can't just do the same thing he does here at ours," Jo argues, though she knows it's pointless-there's nothing James can do about it. "It's not like he's ever hurt anyone, not with you and Sirius around."
"Yeah, but there are laws, Josie," James reminds her. "Dumbledore's already stuck his neck out to keep him off the registry until he's done with school, others don't get that much leniency and I doubt he'll get much more. Not to mention our assistance in the matter isn't legal."
Jo shakes her head, weaving her needle through her brother's skin. It's much easier now that he's not tensed up and fighting it. "It's bullocks," Jo spits out. "Newt Scamander's a twat. Hope he croaks."
James says nothing to this. He just shakes his head, letting out a chuckle that reverberates through his chest, causing Jo to pause, taking her hands away from his gash until his laughter settles. "I think your technique's getting better. Can hardy feel a thing."
"Piss off," Jo quips, quick to resume her work, biting down on her bottom lip in intense concentration.
Now that he feels nothing, James is moving around a bit more. He leans back on his hands, causing Jo to almost plunge the needle directly into his skin. "You're telling me to piss off now," James starts as Jo places a hand on his shoulder, shoving him forward once more, "but when I'm gone and you're the last Potter left, you're going to miss me."
"I'm sure you'll find plenty of ways to annoy me even after you're gone," Jo mumbles in response.
James pauses for a moment. "That's true."
Jo sighs as she ties off the end of her stitch, his wound now closed. She leans back to admire her work, to think about her brother. Jo's never really thought about Hogwarts without him. James has always just sort of been there. Whether or not she needed him, and she's rarely ever needed him. But it's hard for her to picture, hard to imagine that much time without him around. Because as much as he annoys her, he's still her brother. Still always looks out for her, always protects her, always cheers her up when she's sad and always exacts vengeance on those who hurt her.
Jo looks at James now. She looks at his injured and bruised form as she uncaps her Wound Cleaning Potion. She'd never admit it out-loud, but Jo sort of admires him. Jo thinks of the Quidditch match, thinks of the way screams of horrors filled her ears, but none were coming from James. No, her brother stood tall, ushered younger students behind him, held his wand out and searched for Jo, searched for Lily and kept them close as the chaos raged on. Jo thinks of the look on his face, sharp and fearless. And as the chaos settled and the Dark Mark dissipated, James was the one who looked out for those around him, made sure the younger students were okay. Cheered them up with light jokes, calmed their nerves with words of affirmation. It's astonishing, the way James is able to take care of others.
She shrugs, rubbing the potion on his wound, watching as his skin sizzles. "Suppose I will miss you though, after you're gone," she admits through gritted teeth. "Even though you're a stupid git."
"Yeah, I'll miss you as well," James replies. "Even though you're an uptight brat."
Applying a thick salve over his wounds, Jo finishes up, tapping his shoulder to let him know she was done. "You'll be joining the Order, then?" Jo asks as James pulls his light sweater back over his head.
"Yeah. We all will," he says, swiveling around to face his younger sister, legs crossed. Jo nods, expecting this answer. She's heard whispers of the Order for a long while, but only recently came to know it for what it really is. There was not a doubt in her head James, bold and fearless James, would be joining. "Will you, when it's time?" James asks her.
"Of course," Jo tells him. It was never really something she had ever thought about, something she just sort of assumed for herself. She's a Potter. She does what's right. She'll join the Order. Jo figures they could use a Healer, anyways. Even a novice one. "You've just to stick around long enough to see it."
James smirks, looking smug. "Are you worried about me, Josie?"
She shrugs, eyes locked on the potions she's lazily sorting out in front of her. "Might be."
"You don't have to worry about me," James says with a grin so bright it gives Jo a headache. "Not even You-Know-Who himself could stand a chance against me."
For the last time in her sixth year, Jo walks through empty and dark corridors with Regulus by her side. And briefly, Jo wonders how she ended up here, how a single sleepless night on her behalf has resulted in countless ones spent by his side, heart aching for him and body aching for his hand to brush against hers. She thinks of the first time she saw him, properly saw him, curled up and in tears, how even then he intrigued her, how even when she barely knew him, she could hardly keep her eyes away from him.
Jo looks at him now as they way, looks at the curve of his jaw and the hollows of his cheeks. She looks at the scattering of freckles, littering of scars, looks at how his thick eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks, looks at the sharpness in his nose. Regulus is beautiful-that much Jo is willing to admit to herself. But still, the ugliness of the mark that taints his skin is heavy on her mind.
And as she stares, blatantly and unabashedly, she wonders if that's ever something she'll be able to forget, even if just for a moment. She wonders if she'll ever be able to look at him like she did before, with that buzzing feeling so prominent and loud, with admiration glossing over her eyes, and forget about the horrible thing he's been forced to do. Jo wonders if he kissed her head now, if it would feel the same as it did before. And she's somewhat afraid, and almost positive, that it would.
"You look at me differently now," Regulus says suddenly, cutting through a thick silence, smirk tugging up at his lips. He's a bit bitter now, sourness creeping into every expression, every twist of his tongue into words. It almost makes Jo think he's longing for that before as much as she is.
Jo tilts her head up at him, a smile of her own subtle on her lips. "How did I look at you before?" she questions.
"Differently," Regulus answers simply, looking straight ahead now.
"What a silver-tongue," Jo chides with a roll of her eyes. Regulus snickers from beside her, and Jo looks up at him once more. She thinks, for a moment, that she is trying to commit the image of him to memory. To memorize every freckle, the exact shape of his nose, the way his lips twitch and curve up, looking soft. He looks happy here, as he walks beside her, and Jo doesn't know how long that look'll last. "Will you write me?" she questions suddenly.
Regulus draws his eyebrows together, lips pursing into a slight frown. "I can't."
Jo feels like she's suddenly gone cold. "Oh," she lets out, involuntarily, letting her gaze drop to the ground.
"I'll think of something," Regulus says, like he's correcting himself, and gives Jo a soft smile, looking down at her, curls falling in front of his eyes. "Don't think I could go a whole summer without speaking to you."
The buzzing returns in full force as Jo feels heat rush to her cheeks. "You went seventeen years without speaking to me," she says, casually, trying to disguise the way the tips of her ears have flushed red, how her heart has started skipping every other beat. No one but Regulus has ever made her feel this way, Jo thinks.
The looks he gives her makes her feel gooey, like her insides have melted down to some sticky, warm substance. He takes a step closer to her, his arm brushing against her as they walk aimlessly, slowly through the corridors. "I didn't know what I was missing," she whispers, and Jo feels a bout of nerves so strong she thinks she might vomit.
Jo lets his words settle for a moment, revealing in the way they make her feel just as much as she resents it. Regulus, and the sweet words he speaks to her, flood her brain, make her dumb. And it almost makes her wish she could forget. "You promise you'll apparate over if you're ever in trouble?" Jo questions, diverting to her concerns when she feels like the buzzing gets too loud.
It is Regulus who rolls his eyes now, lightly, with a toothy smile on his face. Jo's gut tumbles at the sight of it, and she doesn't know how she'll go the whole summer without seeing it. "Yes, Josephine, for the hundredth time, I promise I'll apparate over if I'm ever in trouble."
Jo looks down at her sneakers, watching as they drag against the floor. "Do you think you could apparate over anyways?" she asks, voice low, almost hoping that he doesn't hear it. And Jo feels stupid-she's never felt so unsure, so embarrassed over something so simple before.
"Why?" Regulus asks.
With a groan, Jo looks up at him with flaming cheeks. "Because I'd like to see you, why else?" she admits, a bit reluctantly, a groan in her tone.
"Don't know," Regulus admits with a smugness in his tone. "Suppose I just wanted to hear you say it."
Jo gently places a hand on his arm and shoves him, "Tosser," she grumbles, voice thick with embarrassment as Regulus stumbles, laughter echoing off the walls, and Jo hopes to never forget the sound of it.
The year ends on a strange note. The stunt at the end of the Quidditch match was nothing more than a stunt, but it seemed to accomplish it's goal of leaving students horrified, confused, and paranoid. The feelings were thick in the air after that; there was not a corner in the castle that could escape the affects of it. The professors never figured out who did it, though Jo has her suspicions, and almost faded bruises on her arm to fuel them.
But still, nothing ever comes from it, and that almost makes it worse. Everyone walks through the corridors, distrusting of each other and waiting for the next horrible thing to happen. It never comes.
Jo does fine on her final exams, despite the recent horrors. Well enough to let her pursue her hopes of becoming a Healer but not well enough to ease her nerves about her prospects. Jo vows to herself that she'll get an E in Defense next year if it kills her.
Jo sits on top of her packed trunk now, Juniper purring on her lap and leaving tufts of white fur all over her trousers as she examines the sheer emptiness of the place she's called home for the past year. This is always the strangest part of the year, and the older she gets, the stranger it feels, the emptier it looks.
Dorcas is a late packer. She struggles to find everything she's accumulated over the year, little knick-knacks from Marlene, half-finished knitting projects, books she's bought but never opened. Jo rips into a licorice wand with her teeth as Dorcas sighs, slumping against the side of her bed and looking at Jo with wide, exhausted eyes. "Do you think our last year will be better than this year?" she questions suddenly, unexpectedly.
"I'm hoping every year will be better than the last," Jo replies with a mouthful of licorice that muffles her voice.
Dorcas snickers. "When did you become such an optimist?"
"I dunno," Jo answers. "Have I not always been?"
And Dorcas gets that look on her face, those softened eyes and that pouted bottom lip and a downturned chin and Jo knows she's going to be on the receiving end of a conversation she'd rather avoid. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" Dorcas questions, and this one Jo does expect.
"Course," Jo shrugs, almost a bit dismissively, like it's a fact she's always known and one she'd rather not rehash.
"Y'know," Dorcas starts, a bit of a chuckle laced in her words, "Vance and Jones have themselves convinced you're in love with Remus again."
This Jo did know, it's been a conversation topic she could no longer avoid with the two of them. Any time she found herself in the company of those two, she would be berated with questions, begging to know the details of the very non-existent relationship they've convinced themselves to be true. "I'm not," Jo insists. "You know that right?"
"I do. I just think," Dorcas cuts herself off, sighing, "it's just, you don't have to tell me anything, but you also don't have to, I dunno, be ashamed of how you feel?"
Jo blinks. "A-alright."
Dorcas takes in one sharp, long breath before she lets out, "Do you fancy Regulus Black?"
"I-what?" Jo falters, eyes narrowed, and feels her cheeks heat up once more.
"I wouldn't be upset with you if you were," Dorcas rushes to tell her, leaning forward and giving Jo wide eyes. "I think if you like him, he can't really be that bad."
Jo is disarmed; she doesn't know what exactly to make of this, and has absolutely no clue where it's coming from. "Oh, erm. Regulus is," Jo start, hesitant, "he's my friend."
Dorcas counters this with a raised eyebrow, mouth twisted up in disbelief. "You sneak out every night to see your friend?" she says, and Jo feels as if there is a burning light on her. Dorcas sighs. "I dunno. Maybe I'm just sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Just seems like he makes you happy."
"I don't really know how I feel," Jo admits to her, after a moment, feeling something like relief to get it off her chest. "Not lately."
"Well, however you feel, I'm here for you."
Jo gives her a soft smile. "You're a good friend, Meadowes."
"C'mon," Dorcas says, standing, "let's get down to the train."
Once there, Emmeline is wailing. She clings onto Juniper, sobbing into the cat's fur as she struggles to escape from Emmeline's iron grip. Jo cringes from her spot in the train compartment, watching with horror as Emmeline almost yells into the poor cat, "I don't understand what I did wrong!"
"Probably nothing," Jo offers, thinking she's being helpful, but this makes Emmeline sob even more. "Sirius's a dick."
The day Jo had known would always come has finally arrived, and Sirius Black has decided that he has had enough use out of Emmeline, leaving her high and dry on the platform just a few minutes before. Jo plans on laying into him for it once they get back home, plans to chew him out for hurting her friend and for doing it as such an inopportune time. But for now she's curling into her corner, leaning towards the door, trying to come up with ways she can escape from the emotional outburst.
Of course she loves Emmeline, and of course, she would do anything to make her feel better but Merlin, the crying. Jo never knows what to do with the crying.
"Aye, Jo's right," Hestia coos, rubbing her hand into Emmeline's shoulder blade. It does nothing to ease her sobs, and she clings onto Juniper tighter. The small cat squirms, looking to Jo for a rescue that won't come. Jo tells herself to slip her some lamb from the dinner table once they're home. "You don't want to be going out with a guy like that anyway," Hestia continues.
"I thought-," Emmeline hiccups, "I thought he loved me!"
Alice leans forward, her big, round eyes and gentle, caring voice perfect for comforting. "Aw, Emmeline. If he doesn't love you, that's his loss," she consoles in a smooth and even voice. "You'll find someone who does, someone better than him."
"There is no one better!" Emmeline erupts, tossing her hands around Hestia's shoulders and finally allowing Juniper to escape to the safety of Jo's feet.
Jo shoots up at once. "I'll go and get you some sweets, Vance," she offers, trying to be as helpful as she can be. "Not a heartbreak that some Chocolate Frogs can't cure, right?" she questions, and is met with blank stares. She grins. "Right."
Jo does not find the trolley witch. Not at first. She is prowling through the train, searching for the jolly old lady with her seemingly endless storage of sweets when, instead, she is greeted by a bright and all too familiar redhead.
Lily Evans steps in front of Jo, blocking her path and, if Jo's being honest with herself, she's a bit impressed with the move. "Hey, Josephine," Lily says, smile wide and unfaltering.
Jo flinches at the sight of her, the once boiling resentment she held for the girl now simmered down to a squirming discomfort. "Oh, erm, hey Evans," Jo greets, eyes flashing over her shoulders looking for that damned trolley witch and her damned sweets.
Lily follows Jo's line of sight, standing on her toes to grab her attention. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a second?"
With a slight sigh, Jo drops her eyes back down to the redhead in front of her. "Yeah, sure, go on then."
Lily beams, just for a moment, like she has accomplished something wonderful. "I was just wondering if you'd be interested in volunteering at St. Mungo's over the holiday?" she asks, and Jo's eyes go wide. "I'll be working for a potioneer who makes healing potions for them, and James said you'd like to be a Healer-"
"Yes!" Jo cuts her off, unable to stop the way a grin spreads on her face. She laughs in disbelief. "Absolutely, yes. Are you serious?"
"Of course," Lily assures her, smile growing larger now and Jo doesn't give a shite about whatever she's said before-she could kiss Lily right now. "They'll have you working in the Janus Thickey Ward, if that's alright."
Jo doesn't care if they would have her sweeping up floors in the reception area-she never dreamed she'd be able to get a spot at St Mungo's this early. "That is, that's more than alright!" Jo rushes. "Holy shite."
"Brilliant!" Lily exclaims. "I'll let him know I've found somebody."
In the corner of her eye, Jo spots a bit of movement, a striped uniform and the glistening wrapper of some Exploding Bon Bons. "Erm, I've got to go, someone to meet, but really, Lily, thank you so much," Jo says, trying to pour as much sincerity into her words as she can.
Jo takes a step away, but is stopped by Lily's voice once more. "Of course. I was hoping that well, maybe we could meet in London after your shifts, maybe get some tea or something."
Suddenly, that rush of excitement is replaced with that cold discomfort. Jo feels like she's squirming in her robes as she looks down at Lily's bright and hopeful expression. "Uh, yeah, maybe we could. I'll, erm, I'll you around."
Jo rushes past her, not seeing how Lily lets out a breath of relief, and finds that in the second she was distracted, that bloody witch disappeared again.
The second person Jo finds is, again, not the damned trolley witch, but of course, Regulus Black.
Jo is rushing past when she catches the sight of him in the corner of her eye; he's seated in the corner of an empty compartment, forehead pressed against the window and hands holding tightly onto a deep, burgundy book and Jo thinks she feels her heart ache at the sight of him there, completely alone. She doesn't think as she pulls the compartment door open and steps on the other side, she just does.
Regulus turns his head at the sound of the door opening, and smiles at the sight of Jo leaning against the compartment door, arms crossed over her chest. "Think you could get away without saying goodbye?" Jo questions, lips turned up as Regulus scoffs.
He stands, instantly towering over Jo as he takes a large step towards her. The tips of his shoes almost touch hers. "Goodbye, Josephine," he says in a low, raspy voice that sends chills down her neck. "I'll see you next fall."
"Or sooner," she tells him, and she thinks she almost sounds like she's intoxicated.
"Or sooner," Regulus agrees with a nod, and he lifts his hand, raising the book to her. "Here. I didn't know if I'd have the chance to give this to you."
Gingerly, Jo reaches for it, taking it in her hands and quickly flipping through the pages. She's surprised to find it empty, nothing but blank lines occupying its pages. Jo looks up at Regulus with a raised brow. "A journal?" she questions.
"Anything you write in there," Regulus explains, "I'll see my copy. Other way around as well."
Jo's heart flutters in her chest at this, and she stares down at the journal in her hands, her fingers tracing along its spine. She realizes, as her finger brushes against it, that he did this for her and she has to look back up at him before tears start to form in her eyes. "Write me as much as you can, yeah?" she presses him.
Regulus nods. "Yeah."
The train slows as Jo stares into his eyes, thinking that they look more green than they usually do and she bites down on her bottom lip. "Can I tell you something without you taking the mick out of me?" she asks.
"Go on," he encourages.
"I think I'll miss you.," Jo confesses, feeling like her mouth is full of sand.
Jo watches as Regulus tilts his head, eyes raking over her face and she swears that when he reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her heart stops. "I'll miss you as well, Josephine," he says in that dizzying voice of his.
And Jo can't help herself. She lurches forward and buries her face into his neck, arms tight around his neck. She takes in his scent, cedar and spruce and juniper, as his arms wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her closer to him, pulling her feet off the ground. Jo clings to him, desperately, and as even as the train comes to an abrupt stop, Jo doesn't let go, and she thinks that if anything happened to this boy in her arms, she would let hell reign.
idk what to make of this one to be honest
